


German

by suchasoftersin



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 02:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchasoftersin/pseuds/suchasoftersin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anton's getting homesick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	German

It’s all still really new to them, being involved in something as big as this and trying to control a blossoming relationship on top of it. Off of the stage, Porter called him by his real name, Anton, the same way that Skrillex became Sonny. It started off easy, maybe a little flirting here and there, and then it became small touches and lingering stares. Soon after, they spent nights awake and just talking about anything, everything, nothing, the bus’s never-ending motion matching their thoughts. Porter would ask him quietly if he was homesick, something he knew he shouldn’t do because it was personal but the words were out of his mouth before he could think about it. He’d smile sadly and nod, answering honestly that sometimes he did miss it, but he loved this as well. Maybe it’s the way that he looks at him when he says it, but it has Porter’s head reeling from the curiosity of what “this” means. They’d fall asleep like that and in the morning when they woke up with their bodies pressed together, everyone pretended like they were oblivious to it. The same way that they ignored that more often than not, they could hear Sonny at 2 am on his cell phone as he talked to Joel.

Once the initial excitement for the tour and many nights of partying faded away, they fell into a type of routine. After shows, they would do a little group hug - which was mostly because of Sonny, who seemed to enjoy contact as much as possible and always started it. Sometimes they left the venue right away, sometimes they stayed a while, but it always resulted in them climbing back on the bus and searching their fridge for food on the nights that Rob didn’t bring them any. Rob usually remembered to make sure they had food after shows now, on account that Sonny tended to get a little whiny when he was hungry and it was easier than dealing with him all night. They usually all sat on the couches together until someone admitted they were tired and they disbanded, each back to their own bunk slowly. It was usually Sonny even though everyone knew he didn’t sleep nearly as much as he pretended to, mostly just got on his laptop and waited for his phone to ring. 

It changed, though, just barely; Sonny still left early to be alone before Joel called and Rob still left soon after, but now Anton never joined them. As soon as they stepped onto the bus, he headed straight to the back by himself, never saying anything to them on his way. Sometimes Porter would excuse himself to check on the man, who was always awake and staring at the bottom of Porter’s bunk. The first night he found him like that, he’d crawled into the cramped space of his own bunk and dropped his hand down over the side, his stomach flipping when Anton took the hint and a warm hand slipped into his own. Their fingers laced and he rubbed his thumb in soothing circles, closing his eyes and hoping that this somehow helped. When he woke up in the morning, his arm was numb from having it hanging over the side of his bunk all night, but Anton was finally comfortably sleeping and that made the stinging worth it.

It worked - for a while. The next night, Anton was smushed next to him on the couch as they burrowed into greasy bags of fries courtesy of Rob’s run to McDonalds earlier. The outside of their thighs were pressed together and their hands would brush and sometimes, if he was feeling gutsy, he’d feed Anton a fry with a smile. Sonny was spread out on the couch across from them, nursing a coke and laying against Rob while they talked. Anton wasn’t joining into the discussions unless he was directly asked, but it was a work in progress, at least he was still present. It stayed like that for a few days, Anton silent, and Porter makes it his goal to make him laugh as much as possible. He managed to crack a few smiles at the most random times during the day, always remembering to smile back. 

Then it happens again, Anton starts skipping out on what Sonny calls their “quality time”, which is mostly runs to fast food places at midnight. On free days, he doesn’t want to go out with them and he doesn’t have makeshift dinner with them on the couches, either. Every night, Porter does the only thing he can think of: drops his hand over the side of his bunk. It’s now become normal for him to fall asleep with his palm sweaty and wake up with a dead arm. Except one day he doesn’t. He’s not sure what wakes him up, it might as well be missing the feeling of blood rushing to his fingertips, because now his arm’s on the bed for the first time in weeks. He has an uneasy feeling and when he peeks over the side to look below him, Anton’s bunk is empty. The bus is still dim and Porter wonders what time it is as he fumbles out of his bed, half-concious, and tries to be quiet about it. He starts towards the front of the bus but stops when he passes Sonny’s bunk, his curtain half-open, a habit the man has that Porter’s never questioned. With his eyes adjusting to the dark, he can tell that Sonny’s asleep with his cell phone near his head and that means it must be very late - or probably early, Porter decides.

It’s lighter in the front of the bus, the dark sky of the early morning showing through the windows now. The only thing he’s looking at, though, is Anton stretched out on the couch with his arms folded as he stares at the ceiling. As soon as he notices Porter, his eyes lazily fall to him instead. “What are you doing?” His accent sounds thicker, but Porter’s not sure if that’s from emotion or exhaustion. He stares quietly for a second before coming to a decision.

“Scoot over.” It’s only a few seconds and he’s made the distance of the room so now he’s standing next to the couch. Anton’s staring up at him, his eyes curious, before he gives into the request and does as he’s told. He uncrosses his arms and turns on his side, moving so that his back is now pressed against the couch and there’s a little room in front of him. A space that Porter squeezes into with a little effort, his body pressing close to Anton’s but just barely enough away, their shirts are probably touching but that’s it. Now they’re face to face and it feels like they’re breathing the same air, recycling it back and forth, and Porter’s unsure of what to do, so he does the only thing he can think of. He reaches for Anton’s hand, pressing their palms together, and it’s so familiar and now everything falls into place and he isn’t so unsure now. With new found confidence, he moves forward so that their chests press together and their knees knock a little, setting their entwined hands on his thigh. 

Anton watches, his body still stiff even as Porter’s fits perfectly against it, making Porter want to try just a little harder. He leans forward and rests their foreheads together, his eyes closing even though he can feel Anton still watching him. It’s silent and Porter decides to try once more, this time pressing forward and searching for Anton’s lips. He has his face memorized behind his eyelids because he gets it on the first try and is a little surprised to find that there’s no hesitation there. Anton falls into the kiss and it’s like he’s broken through a wall, because now the body against him finally relaxes, a leg moves to wrap into his own and press them that much closer. He pulls away after a second, opening his eyes to look at the man next to him, and Anton’s eyes are still closed as his tongue pokes out to swipe across his lower lip. It just makes Porter want to kiss him all over again but he doesn’t because he knows if he does, he really won’t be able to stop a second time. “Stop thinking so loudly,” his lips ghost over Anton’s for a second because of the little distance between them, “it’s going to keep me awake.”

Anton sighs and for once, Porter feels like it’s not filled with sadness but with relief. He nods just barely, rubbing their foreheads together in the process, and that seems to be enough for both of them. He smiles and moves forward to press a small kiss to the corner of Anton’s mouth quickly and presses his thumb into the back of his hand. Anton smiles, just barely, and squeezes his hand before Porter finally closes his eyes again, satisfied. They fall asleep like that, bodies relaxed and molded together, feeling comfortable with their hearts a little lighter.

He wakes up when something lands on his chest, not hard enough to hurt but enough to pull him out of his dream. The first thing he sees is the ceiling, but he quickly shuts his eyes again because it’s fucking bright out now, the sunlight threatening to make him blind. The second thing he realizes is that he’s alone on the couch now, laying on his back and taking up almost the whole thing. After a while, he has enough strength to try and open his eyes again, and now there’s Rob standing next to him, holding something. “What’s this?” He finally croaks, voice scratchy because his throat’s really dry. When he looks down at his chest, there’s a handful of packaged, powdered donuts laying there.

“Donuts and Red Bull: the breakfast of champions. Eat.” Rob thrusts the Red Bull at him and all he can do is reach up and take it, giving in to the request. He sits up after Rob’s left, probably going back to the bunks to wake up Sonny, all the donuts falling all around him and he can’t find it in himself to care. The first thing he does is crack open his drink, taking a big gulp of it even though it’s still cold enough to burn on the way down his throat. He looks around for somewhere to set the can down and finally decides to put it between his legs, hoping they don’t hit a bump and it’ll go flying. He picks up one of the packs of donuts that’s rolled next to him, tearing it open and wondering where Anton’s gone off to. He’s stuffed the second donut in his mouth when Rob re-emerges from the bunks, a very tired Sonny following behind him. As soon as Sonny spots him, he manages to throw him a smile and a peace sign before collapsing onto the couch across from him.

“Pass me one of those.” Sonny’s voice is even worse than his own as he uses the bottom of his palm to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Porter reaches for another pack in his lap and with his left hand, tries to gently toss it to Sonny from his spot. It doesn’t end up in his arms like planned, but manages to land on the couch a foot or so away from him which is good enough for both of them. Sonny lays down on his side to reach for the small package of donuts and manages to reach it without having to get up, sitting up with success. He uses his teeth to tear open the package and quickly eats one in two bites, making Porter chuckle. Rob manages to hand Sonny his Red Bull before he crams another one into his mouth and suddenly, Sonny looks a lot like a squirrel preparing for winter. Porter shakes his head before tossing more of the donuts over to the other couch, intent on standing up and not wanting to crush them. Sonny takes another swig of his drink while Porter stands up, carrying an extra pack of donuts with him.

He finds Anton in the back of the bus, after checking his bunk and finding it empty, laying down on the small couch there by himself. Mimicking Rob’s actions earlier, he drops the package of donuts onto Anton’s chest, who slowly opens his eyes and looks up at him. He smiles down at him before moving to sit beside him, lifting his head to create space and setting it back down in his lap. He instinctively starts running his hands through Anton’s short hair, grinning when it causes the man to close his eyes again and relax into the touch. He’s sure that if he could, Anton would start purring like a big cat. After a few minutes, he turns into his side, letting the donuts fall to the floor, and nuzzles into Porter’s thigh. It’s a good time to get some rest, Porter decides, because Rob woke him up too early for a day off. He can always get Anton to eat later.

“Are you going to sleep all fuckin’ day or what?” He hears Rob bitching, but decides to ignore it because he’s comfortable the way he is right now. Rob, it seems, doesn’t like that plan because he pushes him, trying to get him to open his eyes. Instead of waking up, he decides to be a smartass and falls over onto his side so that he’s laying on the couch. He’s sure that Rob’s probably rolling his eyes now, completely unamused, and he tries to hide his smile but fails. There’s fingers digging into the side of his ribs now, Rob poking at him to try and get him up now that he knows he’s slowly winning the battle. Porter wiggles a little, trying to get him to stop without really doing anything. He stops after a minute and speaks quietly, “he won’t come out of his bunk, I tried”. Porter thinks it’s a little sad that he knows who he’s talking about without asking and it’s his only motivation to get up now. 

When Rob realizes that he’s officially won, he leaves to go back to the front of the bus, looking a little more somber than he did before. It was a topic they didn’t talk much about, the way Anton pulled away from them, and Porter knew they meant well even though no one knew what to do about it. He looked down and was happy to see that the package of donuts was gone, hoping that Anton had at least eaten; he hadn’t seen him eat as much as he should lately, it was becoming a priority to feed him. He summons the energy to get up, knowing he has to go check on Anton just to reassure himself that he’s okay, nearly tripping over his own feet on the way. Sonny’s voice is loud enough that he can hear it as soon as he steps into the hallway for their bunks and he knows that Rob went back to sit with him in the front on the couches again. 

The curtain’s closed on Anton’s bunk, something that’s not uncommon these days, but it still makes Porter’s stomach drop. He decides it’s really not being rude if he opens it and peeks in because this is a bus and there’s no such thing as privacy, right? Worse things have happened on this tour already, so there’s no way this would make the bad list. He tries to be quiet, figuring he’ll get bonus points if he doesn’t bother him too much, and opens the curtain enough that he can see inside. He’s surprised to find Anton curled up on his side, hands under his pillow and his eyes closed. For a minute, he thinks he’s faking it, but he watches the rise and fall of his chest and it’s slow enough that it’s obvious he’s asleep. He watches for a moment before he finds himself staring and quickly shuts the curtain again, feeling a little awkward. 

He’s right about Sonny, who he finds taking up his own couch in the front with his laptop. Rob’s sitting across from him with his phone out, reading something and nodding occasionally as Sonny talks. Instead of taking up the space next to Rob, he pushes Sonny’s feet off the side of the couch and sits down beside him. “Hey!” is all Sonny manages to get out before his foot rest is taken over, playfully glaring before giving up and situating himself so he can cross his legs under him instead. “Oh, man,” Sonny starts, completely changing his attitude, “Joel sent me this video. You gotta see it.” 

That’s how they ended up watching youtube videos for the next six hours, laughing too loudly at the most ridiculous things. It started out with videos of talking cats and moved to stupid skateboarding accidents and somehow they watched a few terrible dancers. Now they were watching flash mobs, Sonny in complete awe from it like a child who’s just discovered cartoons. It only stops when Rob comes back from talking to the driver, waiting for their current video to end before he speaks, “we’re going to stop for gas in a little bit, do you guys wanna get some food?” It’s a stupid question because the answer will always be yes, what man doesn’t want cheap snacks that aren’t healthy for you? 

Sonny manages to squeeze in two more videos before the bus actually stops and Porter finally convinces him to go put his laptop away. He’s sad but does what he’s told, knowing that it’s better than something accidentally happening to it if it’s left out in the open. Sonny heads back to his bunk to put his laptop under his pillow (he thinks he’s sneaky but everyone knows that’s where he keeps it) and Rob’s standing and waiting for him, checking his phone. Porter decides it won’t hurt if he goes in before them to stock up on Mountain Dew, probably going to hide a few because all of his magically disappeared from the fridge last time. He shoulders past Rob and jumps off of the bus; the sun’s starting to go down and he’s glad for it because he’s too lazy to go grab his sunglasses. Considering the bus is completely on the other side of the parking lot, he has to walk to the gas station. He sticks his hands in his pocket and starts walking with his head down.

It’s not the cleanest place, run down from all the truckers that stop because it’s right off the highway, and the guy behind the counter is eyeing Porter like he just broke out of prison. He tries to ignore the gaze burning into the back of his head and walks down the nearest isle to the drinks, eyes scanning for his Mountain Dew. He should probably get some chips, he decides when he finds it, and he’ll grab Anton some as well because the best way to get someone to eat is by giving them free food. He opens the door and reaches for the Mountain Dew, grabbing multiple bottles and filling his arms, figuring it’s the best he can do. He manages to get about six or seven cradled in one arm before he grabs another, holding just the one in his free hand before he leaves to find the chips now. They’re in the middle of the isle he walked down earlier, so he backtracks to them and silently wonders what kind he should get. He decides on Doritos and starts to maneuver to reach them, when the bell chimes that someone else has come in. His eyes dart up to tease everyone for taking so long but he stops when he finds a distressed Rob.

“Uh,” he starts and then stops, like he can’t find the words he wants to use. His eyes dart out the window to the bus quickly before he tries again, “okay, uh, Anton just started yelling at Sonny. I can’t talk to him, he’s yelling and…well, I can’t understand him, so it has to be in German,” he laughs nervously, like it’s a joke that he’s unsure about, “I’ll take care of Sonny and you try to um, just try to calm him down and switch back to English.” His eyes go back to the window and this time, Porter follows his gaze and sees Sonny standing outside, hands covering his face. It’s like a kick in the gut because he knows the small man’s crying or nearing it, so he quickly jumps to action to try and fix what he can. He turns back to Rob and motions for him to take all of his soda from his arms so he can leave. Rob frowns but takes them anyway, watching as Porter quickly dashes out the door and starts running back to the bus. 

He can hear the screaming before he actually steps inside and Rob was right, it’s definitely in German. Except it’s so slurred with emotions that even if Porter tried to listen for the words he knows, he probably wouldn’t be able to tell. When he enters, he can tell that Anton has to be all the way in the back because he’s not in the front. He sees him as he’s walking down the hallway of bunks, watching him as he paces back and forth and continues to yell loudly. It’s almost like he’s trying to convince someone of something because he keeps repeating the same words over and over again. Porter moves to stand in the doorway of the room, eyes following the man as he moves, not sure what to say because normally, the other person is speaking the same language. That is, until he swears he hears his name thrown into the mix.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says as he leans against the doorframe and Anton’s eyes shoot up to look at him, “if you’re going to insult me, please do it in English so that I can at least understand what you’re saying.” He smiles at him teasingly and crosses his arms, waiting. Anton’s eyes slip back down to the floor and his ears turn pink while he clears his throat. It’s silent for a few uneasy seconds and Porter considers saying something else, but he can’t think of any words.

“It wasn’t an insult.” Anton’s voice is rough from screaming and his accent is thicker now that he’s switched languages. His eyes stay downcast.

“A compliment, then?” Porter teases, uncrossing his arms and taking a few steps into the room. Anton’s face turns even more pink and now it’s a dead giveaway that he’d guessed correctly or was very close to the truth. Instead of continuing to make him blush, he changes the subject, “okay, come on, tell me what’s actually wrong.” He avoids touching the man, not sure if that’s the best thing to do right now, and instead walks beside him to sit down on the couch. Now he waits for the man to start speaking, knowing him well enough that he’ll probably open up if he feels like it. Anton sighs audibly before he finally looks up and over at Porter, who still has that stupid smile on his face, and it makes his stomach flip. He moves to sit next to him on the couch, close but not quite touching. He finds the courage to start talking when Porter takes his hand, the small action meaning more than words ever could between them.

“I just…” he stops to let out a breath, “I just miss home sometimes, but I like this, too. Things are different here and sometimes…well, sometimes it’s scary, no?” Porter nods, not sure if he should speak. The truth is he knows exactly what Anton’s saying; touring is like a whole different world, the things you experience and are able to do are something that other people wish they could do. They’re both young, too, so it’s not like they’re used to these things, they’re just trying the best they can. Anton laughs lightly, like an unknown weight is being lifted off of him, “that’s it, really. I just kept it inside, you know. It really got to me.”

This time Porter does speak, “next time talk to me, okay? You don’t have to get to the point where you start scaring Sonny again.” 

Anton’s face suddenly turns serious, “I really didn’t mean to do that. He was just asking me if I was going to come inside and I just…started yelling, you know.” Porter swipes his thumb over the back of his hand in comfort.

“Trust me. I don’t think anyone actually wants to make Sonny upset, it’s like kicking a puppy.” Anton nods, knowing it’s very true and he still feels bad about it. “You should apologize when they come back, though.” 

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “I will.” Their conversation dies down and Anton scoots closer, laying his head on Porter’s shoulder, making him smile from the contact. They sit like that while Porter rubs his thumb in circles on the back of Anton’s hand that he has cradled in his lap, something he has a habit of doing. Porter silently wishes that they were face to face because he has an urge to kiss him (maybe he has a secret love for German he never knew about?). “What do you think Rob did with Sonny?” Anton asks quietly.

“Hm,” Porter hums as he watches his fingers thread through Anton’s, amused with how natural it feels. “Probably called Joel and hoped he wasn’t busy and put him on the phone with Sonny.” They both chuckle at that, knowing it’s probably the truth. They fall silent again and Porter continues to play with Anton’s hand, taking his time to focus on each individual finger. He’s almost sure he’s fallen asleep by the time he thinks to ask, “hey.”

“Hm?”

“What did you really say about me? You know, in German.” Anton sits up quickly and punches Porter’s shoulder, the one he was just laying against. “Ow, okay, okay. I was just curious.” Even with his violent reaction, he’s still smiling and his cheeks have colored all over again and that’s enough for Porter. He finally gets his chance and leans forward, capturing Anton’s lips for the first time today. He’s lucky because the man doesn’t fight it even though he’s supposed to be mad at him, actually melts into the kiss and follows. Porter pulls away after a second, just enough to speak, “it’s okay. I love you, too.” This earns him another punch, but he sees that Anton’s smile is even bigger and his face is becoming a tomato before he takes charge and kisses him again.


End file.
